She never asked me once about the wrong I did
by Snowdelion
Summary: Gilbert kisses the words off of pages and brings them back for Elizaveta to dissect; if only things had been different.


"Here is my dutiful wife, Elizaveta." Roderich smiles politely and Gilbert smiles tightly back, averts his gaze the way he's been trained to. It is shameful to look at another mans woman, his mother explained long ago. She kissed his cheek before she told him that he was a freak by nature and probably would never wed anyone; _Gilbert darling don't cry I'm telling you this for your own sake_.

"Pleased to meet you," Gilbert murmurs as is customary and moves on through the ballroom, deftly avoids conversations and introductions until he reaches Antonio's side. His oldest and truest friend is enthusiastically sampling the wine and Gilbert feels the corner of his mouth twitch, accepts the glass Antonio hands him and focuses on getting through the night.

–

Gilbert isn't surprised when Roderich approaches him at the next event he attends. A man of Gilbert's stature and looks is hard to hide, and he bets that Roderich heard about his work with the latest translations. What does surprise him, however, is when the woman behind Roderich steps forward.

"I heard you've singlehandedly translated almost every German book on the market right now?"

"Correct."

"How fast are you?" Gilbert looks at her shoes and considers, tries not to smirk as he can basically feel how uncomfortable Roderich is. Well, well. There is no use in being too modest, but if he told her how fast he actually is everyone would demand their translations done within the hour. It's also hard to explain to a married woman that his life isn't much more beyond paper and the smell of ink; he might carry the Beilschmidt name but that doesn't mean he is looked upon kindly.

"Depends on the volume of the book and the complexity."

"A theory on alchemy by Lilian Zwingli." Gilbert forgets himself for a split second and looks at her, sees the way her eyes widen when she registers the bright red of his eyes - he is ready to cut her off from that look alone but then her expression softens, and she inclines her head.

"I hardly think the colour of your eyes will have an impact on the translation."

Something stirs in Gilbert's chest that has been buried since the day his mother died and he swallows back the sudden impulse to thank her.

–

He has the book done within the week. Roderich thanks him with an uneasy expression and Gilbert is a model of etiquette at their door up until Elizaveta peeks out and catches his eyes, mouthing 'thank you' while Roderich tries to usher her back inside.

After a few days, she sends a request for a new book.

–

"Why would you want to read whatever Ivan Braginsky spouts?" Gilbert shakes his head and Elizaveta raises an eyebrow from where she is folding laundry. "Roderich, isn't Braginsky a joke?"

Roderich hums and when Elizaveta and Gilbert roll their eyes they're in perfect sync. "You're not even listening," Elizaveta states fondly, and Gilbert tries to ignore the way his chest aches when she uses that tone with her husband.

"I want to explore different viewpoints," she raises her chin at him and Gilbert holds up his hands in defeat. The knowledge that he would do anything she asked sits in his chest and eats at him from the inside.

–

Gilbert refuses to translate any more books and when Elizaveta asks him why he doesn't tell her it's because he wants to kiss the words into her mouth and make her gasp, he doesn't tell her she's the most brilliant woman he's ever met and that his mother threatened to leave him at the age of seven because she didn't know how to raise a child touched by the devil.

There is no reason to say 'Roderich is a good man but I think he holds you back' because Elizaveta loves her husband and Gilbert is just a man with a lot of words and little else to offer. So he stops talking to her and kills the hope that took root inside him, averts his gaze like the first night they met.

He moves away, eventually, dips his fingers in the sea and calls it home.

(Elizaveta sometimes thinks about the man who gave her the world book by book, tries not to let the disappointment show when Roderich asks her about dinner rather than argue about alchemical theories, tries to push down the space where Gilbert made himself at home.

'What could have been' are for weaker woman but at night she closes her eyes and thinks that maybe.)


End file.
